What DIDNT Happen In Lord of The Rings
by fazy
Summary: The Fellowship run into an ex-prostitute and use her to fufill their desires. Is basically an experiment to see how far i ken push a non-cannon b4 she becomes a Mary Sue. POV of cannons in rotating order. Action centred around Boromir. pls R&R.
1. Chapter 1: Intro of non cannon

Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings. Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters). AU which hovers somewhere in between book and movie verse. The characters are generally movie-versy, while everything else is something of an AU book verse. Rating: PG13 for this chapter, but NC16 for future chapters. For anyone who's just in it for the sex, skip straight to chapter 3. It's written such that ch 3 can stand alone as a PWP fic without the 'drama' factor of the other chapters. WDHI Storyline: The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy their desires. Pairing: Wench/Boromir, Wench/Aragorn, Wench/as many pple as I ken possibly squeeze in in the future chapters. Graphic description of Wench/Boromir and Wench/Aragorn/Boromir and Aragorn/Boromir in future chapters... Chapter summary: Chapter 1, Intro of non-cannon.  
  
Note from the writer: I got the idea of a threesome after reading some bad RPS and found it really blah that the readers generally see the story from the Mary Sue's point of view. It is also an attempt to subvert the 'Non-cannons-which-shag- cannons-therefore-mary-sue' stereotype. The wench-bitch in this story is not a Mary-Sue. Let me repeat, the wench-bitch in the story IS NOT A MARY- SUE. She does not use the Fellowship: the Fellowship uses her. She is an attempt to prove that it is possible to have a non-sue character who gets away with sue-ish stuff. Whether the attempt succeeds or not is a different thing altogether, and up to you to decide. Although it was meant to be a PWP type fic, the story is quickly (and independently- not my doing! I promise!) developing plot. Read at your own risk.  
  
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Chapter 1-Boromir  
  
Nightfall. Just about the hundred millionth nightfall since they left Rivendell. At least it wasn't so bad in Rivendell, or Lothlorien for that matter. At least there were them elf women. Gods, they'll never let you touch them but at least they were there. And they were pretty, even if most of them had less curves than a blasted plank of wood. At least a man could look at them.  
  
Not that Boromir ever looked at them, mind. Especially not through cracks in the door. Especially not when they were in their bedchambers. Especially not then. No, Boromir would never do that, would he? No, no.  
  
Because Boromir was a gentleman. "Oh, right," he snorted sarcastically. As if he didn't peep. Curse it, he wanted women! And by the looks of it, so did the rest of the Company. Look at them; they were getting all strung up and restless. Tempers were simmering everywhere, people getting jittery, and.ah yes, there were the classic symptoms. It was nice to know he wasn't the only one. Yea gods, how in the world was he supposed to act all big and manly and Son-of-Gondor-ish if he hadn't had a screw in aeons!  
  
Okay, so maybe not aeons. It couldn't have been that long, no matter how much felt like. They hadn't been in the Company all that long. But ye Gods, it felt like an eternity.  
  
You know, it wouldn't be so bad if there were something to watch. If there was anything he enjoyed other than a good shag, it was sneaking a peek on someone else getting shagged. Spared you the trouble of finding your own bitch, really. And you won't have to worry about all that cuddling nonsense. Or the fake compliments. Let someone else play the fawning courtier, he always said. That sort of emotional sentimentality made him sick.  
  
But out here there was nobody to watch! Not even the entertainment of a warrior's comfort! Boromir rolled his eyes in exasperation. Now why wouldn't the Halflings do something naughty once in a while? He was cursed sure that it happened a lot in the Shire. He's heard about it before, hadn't he.something about a "c" word. Started with "c", couldn't really place his finger on it. "carrot"? Boromir never really got that one. What was so interesting about carrots? I mean, you dug it up, you broke it in two, you ate it, end of story. Not like it even tasted good or anything.  
  
C-word, c-word. Ah, that's it! "Curse"! The Brandybuck Curse! Or something to that effect. And he was practically certain it has something to do with being kinky with other males. Or was that females? No, it was a male thing, that much he was certain. Ah, shit. Well, there was a Brandybuck, wasn't there, and a perfectly kinky one at that. Why wasn't anything happening? Ye Gods, he could just die of boredom.  
  
He was bored. Bored! B-O-R-E-D! Why didn't that Elrond fellow send a woman as well? Or why can't Aragorn take us another route? One that didn't wind through the middle of nowhere? Maybe then they could stop by someplace, knock back a pint or two and get themselves a woman each. Curse it!  
  
But Aragorn was saying something, wasn't he? Just that Boromir wasn't listening. Why did he have to go listen to that righteous prig anyhow? Not like it'd make a difference if he ever objected to anything Lord High-And- Mighty-Aragorn-Son-of-Arathorn-Isildur's-Heir-And-Heir-To-The-Throne-Of- Gondor-And-Arnor had to say. Not if Master I-Just-Shoved-A-Cactus-Up-My-Ass Elf had anything to do with it.  
  
He had a mental image of the fair Legolas shoving a cactus up himself. It wasn't a good idea. Pleasurable to imagine, yes, but good, no. Boromir stifled a laugh.  
  
Legolas frowned. "You will listen when Lord Aragorn speaks," the elf reprimanded quietly. Boromir had a sudden urge to hit him. And perhaps shove a cactus up the elf's annoyingly taught behind. If only they had a cactus plant around here somewhere. He craned his neck to look around but there was none in sight.  
  
Curses!  
  
Aragorn looked wearily at Legolas and murmured something in Elvish. Curse Aragorn too! Why did that prig always have to use that god-awful elvish tongue as if the language of his own people was lacking! Hah! "He thinks he's too good to use such the foul, base language of men," Boromir sneered, just loud enough so it would be heard by Aragorn and Legolas. Aragorn tactfully pretended not to have heard, but Legolas bristled at the insult. Ah, is that protectiveness I see before me? Boromir thought gleefully. Might they be messing about somewhere when the rest of the Company was asleep? Perhaps there was some potential between these two after all.  
  
Yea Gods, he was bored! He had to be, else such an insane idea would never have crossed his mind! Bracing himself for the worst, Boromir forced himself to pay attention. At least it would stop any more brilliantly insane ideas with regards to the hind quarters of the Royal Pain of Mirkwood.  
  
".supplies..blah, blah blah.. third nightfall. make it.blah, blah, blah," Not even Aragorn's charisma could make him listen properly. Letting his mind run wild, the Gondorian only caught brief snatches of it. "blah, blah, blah." Boromir yawned.  
  
Suddenly Aragorn stopped and sniffed the air, then looked at Legolas. The Elf looked equally dumbfounded. "What the-" Boromir breathed, standing up. Through the dense vegetation that grew along the riverside came the very distinct strains of someone's singing. "What the-?" he repeated again. He glanced at Merry. The hobbit was salivating, and Boromir trusted Hobbit Sense enough to conclude that whoever was doing the singing must have been cooking too. The voice was distinctly female, and by all the gods, she sounded reasonably young as well.  
  
Good!  
  
Exchanging a look. Aragorn gestured to the others to stay behind while he and the elf crept forward to 'investigate'. When they were not back yet after a few seconds, Boromir went after them, closely followed by first Gimli, then Pippin, then finally the rest of the hobbits.  
  
Together they found Aragorn and Legolas crouched behind some bushes, peering out into a clearing in a confused manner. The others took one look at the woman in the clearing and wisely decided to do the same. She was tending to a well-kept garden that grew around what looked like a passable hut standing in the centre of the clearing. Beside the hut, a single oak tree spread its branches. The Company exchanged a look. From where they were, the Company could see that she was indeed rather young, fairly pretty and very, very naked. It was an altogether pleasing sight, and Boromir felt himself harden.  
  
They waited for some minutes while she mucked around her plants, but when it seemed clear that she was not about to clothe herself anytime soon, Boromir stood tall, stepped out of his hiding place and cleared his throat.  
  
Immediately her head jerked up. "Oh!" she cried. He had apparently given her a bit of a start. Still looking more than a little stunned, she stood up slowly and rested a hand between her ample breasts to calm herself from her fright. Ye gods! he thought, his eyes fixed on her chest. His phallus positively throbbed.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she said quietly. Her voice was deep and rich. Deep and rich and firm. "You're not here to hurt me, are you?" she asked suspiciously, then noticing the other faces still half hidden in the shrubbery, turned and shook her fist at them. "Get up!" she bellowed angrily. "Get up, all of you! Come out and show your faces! How dare you hide from me in my own garden!" she cried. The others stepped out and fidgeted uncomfortably. Most of them had never faced a naked angry woman before.  
  
Boromir hid a smile. She still seemed perfectly oblivious to her state of undress. How nice. "Begging your pardon, my lady," he said, still amused, "you must forgive us. The little ones have hardly seen much of the world and." at this he shrugged and gave a polite cough then waited for her to catch his drift. And catch it she did.  
  
"Oh!" she whispered as the realisation dawned. Her hand flew to her mouth as she looked down at herself in dismay. "Oh, I am so sorry," she stammered, backing towards her hut. "Oh dear.oh.. Give me a moment." She slipped into her hut, and slamming the door behind her, began a desperate search for something to wear.  
  
Outside, Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli looked at each other and shrugged. The more bashful of the hobbits avoided eye contact. Legolas stared grimly into the distance, his mouth fixed in a thin set line. Boromir guessed the elf did not approve. Or perhaps, he wondered, perhaps Legolas was so cold because. Boromir glanced down, but even if there were any telltale bulge on the elf, it was hidden beneath the thick folds of his garments.  
  
Perhaps Legolas really didn't approve.  
  
The door opened some ways, just enough for her to stick her head out while keeping the rest of herself hidden. "Ahh.would. I mean.oh dear.." she faltered, an agonized look playing upon her features. Boromir grinned widely and strode up to her hut, proudly unclasping his cloak.  
  
"There, is that enough?" he said, handing her the garment. Up close, he could make out the silhouette of her body against the dim interior. He wondered how it would be like to touch her.  
  
"My thanks."  
  
"Do you need the pin?" he asked, partly out of concern and partly to keep her at the door just a little bit longer.  
  
"No, I think I can manage," she replied and firmly shut herself in.  
  
Shrugging a little, he fastened the pin to his blue surcoat. It was a pretty pin, and he didn't want to misplace it. Besides, it was a memento. Boromir was never big on mementos, but a memento from Lothlorien was not so easily dismissed.  
  
He looked up as the door opened and she stepped out with nothing but his cloak on. But Boromir was a large man, and she was a small woman, and she somehow managed to wrap it around her twice- once around her body and another around her shoulders- so that now she was decently if not queerly dressed.  
  
And now, finally the rest of the Company came up. She grinned at them. "What are you doing here?" she said.  
  
"We were going to ask you the very same." Aragorn replied. "There are no human settlements for miles around."  
  
"So if you know that, why are you here?"  
  
"We were passing through," he stated gravely.  
  
"Nobody passes through. I've lived here for years and I've never seen a single soul. Not since. my. my son died."  
  
"Your son?" Aragorn was shocked. "What are you?" he breathed.  
  
Almost too fast for him to react, the woman swung a punch at him. As it was, he caught her wrist just inches away from his face but it just incensed her further. She struck out at him again, but this time, Boromir intervened.  
  
"Hush," he crooned even as he pinned both her arms firmly behind her back. She struggled wildly. "Hush, my companion meant to ask if you were elf or human or maybe of some other race we do not yet know about."  
  
"Hush now," he continued when she was calmer. "He was raised by the elves. He knows not our reality. He does not understand." By then she was still, and Boromir relaxed his grip. When she made no move to break out, he released his hold completely.  
  
But now Frodo was puzzled. "It doesn't make sense!" he cried. Boromir held a finger to his lips and shook his head disapprovingly, but the hobbit ignored him. "How old are you?"  
  
"I have no idea how old I am," she replied with a bitter shrug. "Once I came here time lost all meaning." She sighed softly and glanced at Boromir, the only other person who hailed from the world of Man. When she did continue, she spoke haltingly. "I was thirteen when I met. somebody. We meant to be married, but there was a war and he was made to fight. And I didn't dare face anybody. I wasn't his widow. We weren't married. So I went away." She looked up and gave a hollow laugh. "And if you still don't understand, ask your friend here to explain."  
  
That night, the Company camped outside the hut, and for the first time in days had much more to eat than elven lembas. The lady had given the hobbits leave to take anything they wanted from her garden, provided they cooked a portion for her as well, and needless to say, they plundered it for all it was worth.  
  
Dinner that night was a joyous affair. Their plates piled high with potatoes, carrots, turnips, peas, tomatoes, mushrooms and various other fruits and vegetables, they had fresh water from a well, and just when they thought they were done, their host produced a huge pot of jam, and though there was not enough bread to go around, Merry, Pippin and Boromir wasted no time in plunging their fists into it, laughing and joking as they licked the sticky sweetness off their hands. And while Legolas said nothing, the remainder yelled out for the three to pass the jam around.  
  
As they sat by the fire afterwards, contented and well fed, a drowsy thought returned to Boromir. He looked around lazily. As usual, Sam was curled up at Frodo's feet. Merry and Pippin lay side by side, both watching the stars and laughingly pointing out 'cherry pie-like' and 'mushroom bake-ish' constellations. Legolas and Gimli sat together, an unlikely couple while Aragorn fingered his pendant and gazed into the flickering flames.  
  
Boromir turned to his right and smiled indolently at the woman beside him, and suddenly shy, she lowered her eyes and reddened. Emboldened, by her unexpected timidness, he leaned over to whisper into her ear, and though she flinched when his lips brushed against her skin, she wore a smile beneath her blush.  
  
"Tell me about yourself," he purred, and was gratified to see the hairs on her bare arms rise. Women loved to talk about themselves, that much he knew, and for a man to ask a question like that was the utmost form of flattery. It showed his concern, and his sincerity. Except that for Boromir, it was a calculated move towards his own gratification. Her response was exactly what he had hoped to see.  
  
"What do you want to know?" she whispered back, smiling happily.  
  
"Tell me about you. Tell me about your past."  
  
The woman paused, and Boromir could have kicked himself. He had forgotten that she had wanted to forget her past, not remember it. He glanced at her, hoping that she would not withdraw into herself, and was gratified to see that she had not.  
  
"When I found out he was dead, I didn't know what to do," she said quietly. "I was already with child. He knew. We were to be married, but he was called away. I left my village, but on the way I had no money. So I sold myself into prostitution."  
  
Boromir glanced up and was surprised to see Aragorn listening intently. How long had he been eavesdropping on their conversation? Boromir wondered. When Aragorn looked his way, could see an almost playful look in the other man's eyes. Probably long enough for him to know my intentions, he concluded.  
  
But the object of his attentions seemed oblivious to the look the two men had shared. She continued talking as if in a daze. "I had no money. What else could I do?" she said as she sat, head bent and shoulders drooping, wrapping her arms closely around herself as if she were a child. Boromir got up wordlessly, rummaged around his things for his fur cloak and draped it around her shoulders. She smiled gratefully and snuggled up to him, much to his delight.  
  
So she was a prostitute before, eh? Well, that was good news. She saw him looking at her like that and smiled warily knowing his thoughts full well without being told. "You're right, I suppose. Once a whore, always a whore," she laughed bitterly.  
  
Boromir's smile grew playful. "I don't suppose you'd like to be my whore?"  
  
The woman grinned. "I do charge, don't you know."  
  
Boromir shrugged and patted his money pouch. "And I can pay, don't you know."  
  
"Oh come now! Look around you!" she cried teasingly, gesturing at the trees and bushed. "What use would I have of coin? Can you see any shops, or taverns, or marketplaces?" she laughed, then looked straight at him. "I want food," she said quietly.  
  
"I don't have food."  
  
"Then hunt. It's been a long time since I've tasted red meat."  
  
A movement in the corner, and Aragorn stood before them. The ranger bowed deeply. "My lady, you must allow us to thank you for your generosity at dinner, and to apologise for the Company's intrusion. On the morrow, Boromir and myself intend to go hunting, and whatever we snare will be yours," he said, With another bow, excused himself from their circle, but not before a quick glance told him that Boromir had gotten his point.  
  
Alone again, Boromir turned his attention back to his whore. She still leaned towards him, and he took it as a good sign. She looked youngish in the firelight, not young but youngish, as if she had had to fight to maintain whatever innocence and goodwill she had left, and he found it strangely attractive. He reached his hand out and played with her hair.  
  
"It's very dry, isn't it," he teased as he ran his hand through her hair. "Almost feels like I'm playing with straw." Lazily, he let the coarse strands slip through his fingers. She smiled and rolled her eyes heavenward in a condescending manner, but Boromir could see that she was well pleased.  
  
Shifting his weight so that he leaned closer towards her, he twirled a lock of her hair and grinned, then slid his entire hand into her mop of hair, so that her head now rested on his palm and lay his forehead teasingly against her left temple. The wench gazed up and grinned, then looked away and laid a hand on his chest.  
  
He felt a strange thrill at the pressure from her hand through the thick layers of mail and garment. How he longed to take that hand and guide it to where he could feel her warmth! Or just to feel the pressure of her hand run down his body. The chain mail suddenly felt heavy and suffocating and he longed to be rid of it, if only for awhile.  
  
"What's this?" she asked, curiously fingering the pin he had earlier fastened to his surcoat. "Is it an emblem, or badge of sorts? It seems everybody of your company has one."  
  
"All of us were given elvish cloaks as a parting gift when we left Lorien," he said by way of explanation. "And the pins were, well, for the cloak, I suppose," he shrugged.  
  
"They're pretty," she said, then looked into his eyes and smiled, and again, he felt a thrill run like electricity down his body. He brushed his nose against her cheek, then nuzzled her along her chin and lower lip, but before he could work his way upwards, she lay a cautionary finger on his lips. He hesitated a little, for she had given him quite a pause, but when he saw in her eyes that he had excited her, Boromir grew bolder.  
  
Grinning slyly, he tilted his head so that it was now parallel to her finger and kissed it lingeringly, then took her by the wrist and guided her finger into his mouth, smirking at her surprise. And although, she jerked her hand away, his actions had stunned her long enough. Grasping her head securely with both hands, Boromir pinned her down and forced his mouth against hers.  
  
For an instant, she froze, half reclined as Boromir's open mouth covered her own, his warm, wet tongue licking against her tightly pursed lips, slowly, tantalizingly teasing them open.  
  
As soon as he was certain she would not draw back, he released her of his hold and ran his hands down her neck and chest, savouring the feel of her hot beneath his palms, loving the fact that where his hands went, they left two scorching trails against her skin. Her fingers dug into his arms as she fought to block off his assault, and Boromir grinned to feel her shudder as molten fire ran through her veins and screamed in her ears, leaving her weak and defenceless against her own mounting desire while he nibbled and sucked at her lips. He knew she would not fight him for long. With a gasp, she surrendered to his kiss, a gasp hungrily swallowed by Boromir as his mouth devoured hers.  
  
And there it was, at last. How long had be been killing for a shag? He almost couldn't remember, it had been so long since his last one, before his journey to Rivendell. "Inside?" he whispered teasingly, breaking the kiss. She nodded, panting hard, and he would have crowed his victory if he had not been so excited himself. As it was, he struggled wordlessly to his feet.  
  
But ye gods! It was such an effort to stand upright, let alone walk someways to her hut. His body screamed out against every second of delay. He was almost tempted to take her then and there, in full view of the rest of the Company, but he knew it was impossible, that such behaviour on his part was unacceptable. As it was, Boromir helped her to her feet a tad bit impatiently, and led her back into her little hut, supporting her as she leaned heavily into him.  
  
~ End ~  
  
notez: The Brandybuck Curse refers to a Bagenders inside joke. I'm a big fan. Try it. Its great. www.bagenders.stormpages.com 


	2. Chapter 2: Aragorn reexamines the situat...

Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters) Rating: PG13 for this chapter, but NC16 for future chapters. WDHI storyline: The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy their desires. Chapter summary: Chapter 2. Aragorn re-examines the situation. ____________________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________  
  
Chapter 2-Aragorn  
  
It was dark when Aragorn opened his eyes. The remains of their campfire had long since burned itself out, and even the light of the stars were missing, blocked out as they were by thick black clouds. Listening in the dark, he could just make out the sounds of the other companions in their sleep, but still he felt vaguely uneasy. Who was keeping watch, he wondered, then realised with a start that nobody was standing guard.  
  
Scrambling to his knees, Aragorn quickly took in the sleeping company. Seven. Eight people including himself. But where was Boromir? He cast around, searching for the missing person when his eyes fell on the dim silhouette of a hut. A hut? Why would there be a hut in the middle of the wilderness, he wondered. Suddenly the events of the night before rushed back to him. They weren't alone in the wilderness that night- they were camping in a lady's backyard. And Boromir had retired to the hut with her.  
  
Beside him, Legolas sat up. "Awake?" the elf said quietly in his native tongue, careful not to rouse the others. Aragorn nodded, and Legolas shook his head and smiled in a somewhat distracted way. "I've been up the whole time. Go back to sleep, Aragorn. There need only be one watcher at night, and I am fully awake."  
  
When Aragorn next awoke, the blue-grey light of dawn was filtering through the atmosphere, strangely cold on an already misty morning. He sat up and looked around. Legolas was gone, presumably to wash himself in the lake, and the others curled up around the campfire were still fast asleep. It must have been the dinner, Aragorn concluded. All that good food must have made their eyelids heavy beyond measure.  
  
A dim red glow showed through the mist, and now that he was looking out for it, Aragorn could just barely make out Boromir's still outline, sitting quietly at the door of the hut, serenely smoking his pipe. He took a deep breath and smiled as the clean, crisp morning air filled his lungs. It rejuvenated him, and stepping over the prone bodies of his friends, Aragorn made his way over to the Gondorian and sat down beside him.  
  
Boromir looked up and smiled, and Aragorn saw that the other man seemed different somehow. Strangely enough, he looked more at peace with himself than he had in ages. And perhaps it was not entirely his fault. Perhaps Boromir had been distanced within the Company. After all, Legolas and himself had had the company of elfkind during their stay at Rivendell and Lothlorien, and as for the hobbits, well, they had known each other all their lives. Gimli too was warming up to Legolas and the two were becoming inseparable, but who did Boromir have for him to turn to when the days grew long and cold? Perhaps what Boromir had told him some days ago was true after all, he thought guiltily. Perhaps Aragorn truly was ashamed of his own kind. Perhaps he really did see the elves as his true people, and the more deserving of the two races. If so, how could one such as he claim to be Isildur's heir?  
  
Aragorn gave a small sigh and Boromir looked up in surprise. Without saying a word (and very possibly mistaking his sigh as a longing for the hobbit's weed), Boromir passed him the pipe he was smoking. Aragorn took it gladly. Now that he was out of his blankets, the mists were getting a little too cold for comfort. They sat there together in companionable silence for some time, savouring the silent morning. Every now and again, the pipe was passed from one to the other. At length, Aragorn rubbed his hands together and puffed on them in a vain attempt to warm them up again.  
  
"Cold?" his companion asked.  
  
"A little. And you?"  
  
Boromir shook his head. "I've been smoking since I got up."  
  
"Speaking of which, you're up early today," Aragorn teased. Boromir shrugged in an uncommitted fashion and turned busied himself with refilling the pipe. It must have been the pipeweed, Aragorn concluded. It must have warmed his bones. That must have been it. For despite the chilly weather, Boromir had cast off his heavy clothing and was dressed in only the black trousers and grey shirt that he wore beneath his mail. It was a plain shirt, made of cotton and stained with the rust it had collected over the years, but those intimate garments seemed to fit him better than the most royal of his embroidered robes. Sitting here in they morning greyness, he was no longer just another someone overshadowed by his showy garments, but a strong, proud individual who donned them as he would a second skin. He's opening up, Aragorn thought. And it's starting to show in the way he is dressed.  
  
By now the others were about, and Sam and Pippin were busy getting some semblance of breakfast ready. Legolas had long since returned, clean and fresh from his wash, his hair just a little bit damp where the roots met his face.  
  
Beside him, Boromir shook his head in quiet bemusement. "How does he keep himself so spotless?" he said, chuckling softly under his breath.  
  
"I should say he makes it a point to be so." Aragorn replied, somewhat amused.  
  
"Unlike us?"  
  
"Well, yes. I suppose you can say that. When was the last time you washed, Lord Boromir?"  
  
Boromir laughed. "I'll have you know that Men of Gondor bathe at least once a year! We aren't as filthy as you think, my lord Aragorn. Now when was the last time you had a decent wash?" he teased.  
  
"It was some time before Rivendell, I'll grant that much," Aragorn admitted smilingly.  
  
"Isn't it amazing how someone raised by such pristine elves can be so much grubbier than an average Man, don't you think?"  
  
Aragorn laughed good-naturedly and waved off the teasing. "Shall we go now?" he said, tactfully changing the subject. "The lady is waking and we promised her we'd go hunting today."  
  
And this time it was Boromir who waved him off. "She's no fine lady, Aragorn, just a common wench. But still, wench or not, we owe her a promise, and if you would wait awhile, I'll just go in and fetch the rest of my garb and we'll be off." And with that Boromir stood up, handed him the pipe and disappeared into the hut, closing the door behind him.  
  
Now although Aragorn, son of Arathorn was born of woman, birthed by his mother into the race of man, his long years as a ranger had honed his sensed above that of an ordinary mortal. It was a skill that had often saved his life, but now he almost wished that his gifts weren't so pronounced. He heard the wench sit up and stretch, and Boromir chuckle to see her awake, his deep, musical laugh shortly followed by the soft crinkling of the mattress as he sat down beside her.  
  
Aragorn didn't wait to hear more. He stood up and brushed himself down, then walked briskly towards the camp. As he passed Legolas, the elf met his eyes and winced. Aragorn grinned. No wonder the elf was unable to find his rest the night before. Even now that he stood some distance from the hut, the muffled groans of the two were hard to ignore, and one need only recall that Legolas had ears much keener than his to understand the other's predicament. He only hoped the dwarf and the hobbits were spared this agony.  
  
Positioning himself comfortably amongst the others, Aragorn settled down and prepared himself for a long wait. When Boromir finally emerged, the sun was already high in the sky and a lazy drowsiness had overcome the Company. What was it about this place, Aragorn wondered, that made people so unhurried? It was a different sort of calm than that which they had just left. In Lothlorien, the mind and body cast away its cares and wakes each day refreshed and full of light and hope. But it was different here. If in Lothlorien, time passed unnoticed, here it was unimportant.  
  
And why shouldn't it be? Why rush through a hurried job? There was always tomorrow. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that, stretching out forever into the mists of time, but the vastness of the future was unimportant. What counted was the now, and at present, the Company felt content to loll about mindlessly. Till tomorrow. And tomorrow. And maybe even the tomorrow that follows that. They had Forever on their side. 


	3. Chapter 4: The men go hunting

Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings. (chapter3) Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters) Rating: PG13 Storyline : The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy their desires. Chapter summary: Chapter 4. The men go hunting.  
  
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Chapter 4-Aragorn.  
  
The sun was already high in the sky by the time Boromir finally emerged, fully clothes and looking more than just a little spent from his exertions. From where he sat, Aragorn could clearly see the lines of exhaustion in the crinkling of his eyebrows and the firm set of his mouth.  
  
"Ready?" Boromir grunted as he approached. Aragorn looked up surprised. From up close, he could see that the other man's lips were red and swollen. "I didn't mean to keep you so long," he said apologetically.  
  
"Doubtless," Aragorn joked, and smiled when Boromir relaxed into a grin. "Where is the wench?"  
  
"In her hut, snoring away, sleeping like a baby. She went out like a light."  
  
"No doubt she has good reason to."  
  
"You flatter me."  
  
"Do I? Well, I cant say that was my intention," he said in a dead monotone. He saw Boromir's head jerk up in what looked like alarm before Aragorn felt his own lips give away his jest.  
  
"Bastard!" Boromir grinned. "You really had me there for a second. I thought you were serious."  
  
"But I was," Aragorn continues to tease, deliberately keeping a set face. "I was very serious indeed."  
  
"Right," he laughed. "Shall we be off now?"  
  
Aragorn stood up and tossed him half a loaf of bread. It was a wonder the Gondorian wasn't hungry. He could have sworn that Boromir had not a bite to eat all morning. Shrugging a little, he stooped down to retrieve his crudely fashioned hunting bow, and as he did so, caught sight of Boromir devouring the dry bread like it was the most delicious thing on earth. He grinned. Honestly, Boromir could be such a child at times.  
  
The two men set off upstream for no other reason than that they felt like it. Initially, Aragorn has thought to ask Legolas along with them. Not only was the elf more skilled at the bow than he was and thus a valuable asset to the little hunting party, Aragorn simply concerned that the expedition might turn out to be an awkward one. Aragorn was more at ease with the elf, and furthermore, the two men had never been able to get along very well. Quite frankly, the thought of spending an entire afternoon with the one member of the Company most like a stranger to him worried him a little.  
  
He couldn't find Legolas though, no matter how hard he looked. Shortly after he and Legolas shared a wince at the sounds escaping the hut that morning, the elf had took off, doubtless to seek solace in the gentle music of the river, or the soft scents of the wilderness.  
  
He needn't have worried though, for the other man was in a surprisingly talkative mood that day. It seemed to him that there was added life in Boromir; there was a twinkle in his eyes, and a certain spring to his walk that seemed almost childlike in its beauty. Usually proud and arrogant, Boromir was always distant and slightly aloof, but today, Aragorn could see that the man was relaxed and confident, and Aragorn wondered at the change.  
  
Together, they managed to bring down a deer, their first joint success at hunting, and Aragorn stifled a whoop of delight at the sheer size of their kill. As a ranger, hunting was second nature to him, but still, the thought of everyone's faces when such a feast laid out before them was wildly satisfying.  
  
Besides, the hunt was a success in more ways than one. The very experience of hunting-and bonding-with Boromir was a victory hard won. Perhaps now he might have the chance of earning the man's trust. They bound the legs of the carcass together with a bit of crude string they had brought along and cut a wooden limb to mount it on, but just as they were about to heft the makeshift carrier onto their shoulders, a dark shadow stepped out of the trees and stared dispassionately at them.  
  
Beside him, he felt Boromir gave a small start. It must be the fortified cities, Aragorn thought, mildly disapproving. It was a wonder that the other man had not noticed Legolas at all as he approached. He turned around to tease the man, but what he saw gave him quite a shock.  
  
Gone was the innocent playfulness in his companion's eyes. In his place stood Boromir, strong and proud, his jaw set and his chin held high. Aragorn looked at Legolas and saw the same ugly defiance in the elf's face as well. The dunadain closed his eyes and sighed. It didn't take a genius to figure out a storm was brewing. 


	4. Chapter 5: Legolas sparks a confrontatio...

Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings. (chapter3) Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters) Rating: PG13 Storyline : The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy their desires. Chapter summary: Chapter 5. Legolas sparks a confrontation.  
  
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Chapter 5- Legolas.  
  
He could see the two men clearly from where he stood, hidden from view by the thick belt of vegetation that grew on the fertile ground of the lake shore. He had seen them leave the camp, and had followed their footsteps upstream. Now, he watched as they bound the legs of their kill together with a bit of crude string they had brought along and cut a wooden limb to mount it on.  
  
When they made to heft the makeshift carrier onto their shoulders, Legolas decided that now was the time to act. Very soon they would be making their way back to camp, and then it would be too late. Moving stealthily as only a woodland elf can, Legolas stepped out of the trees into their line of vision and stared dispassionately at them.  
  
He saw Boromir gave a small start and suppressed a smirk. The dual had not even started and already Legolas had scored the first victory. The Gondorian was quick to recover himself though, that much Legolas would grant him. Already he could see Boromir stand strong and proud, his jaw set and his chin held high, eyeing the elf suspiciously. Adopting the same stance as the man, Legolas strode towards Boromir and stood glaring in front of him, his mouth no more than a thinly drawn line, arms akimbo, legs slightly apart.  
  
"What do you want, Elf," Boromir said coldly, stressing the 'elf' as if it were a vulgarity on his tongue. "I am not in the habit of being looked at that way, let me tell you that much."  
  
Legolas merely increased the intensity of his glare. "How dare you," he said at last, his musical voice now hard with barely contained rage. "How dare you behave like this! Have you no shame?"  
  
From the corner of his eyes, Legolas saw Aragorn's jaw drop. He could read the man's thoughts all to clearly in his face. Before him stood Isildur's heir, berating himself for not having the foresight to have prevented the exchange. Aragorn looked sick at heart. No doubt he blamed himself for all this.  
  
Legolas turned his attention back to Boromir. Before him, the Gondorian stood, arrogant and proud. What he would give for the opportunity to put the conceited man in his place! "Have you no shame?" he whispered at last, unable to bite back the words any longer. "Have you no self-respect at all? Self-centred mule! How many times must we jeopardize our mission for the sake of your useless folly! If-"  
  
"-that's enough, Legolas," Aragorn said quietly in the common tongue.  
  
"Aragorn, do not tell me that you do not see," he began in Elvish, but Aragorn waved him into silence.  
  
"If you insist on accusing Boromir of such a grave fault, then at least have the courtesy to accuse him in a language that he understands."  
  
Legolas stepped back, shocked at what seemed to him, an unexpected turn of events. "Very well then," he said, quickly recovering himself. "I shall. And if I do accuse him of anything, I am not unjust in doing so. Aragorn, we should have left by now. We should have left with the first rays of the sun! We never intended to stay more than a few minutes on the bank, yet we ended up spending the night. And already the sun is starting on its downward course. Evening approaches and still we linger! Why? All so that he can satisfy his wretched lust? Aragorn, this is no laughing matter. Remember the quest!"  
  
"I do remember the quest," Aragorn said quietly. "But I also realise that we need to rest."  
  
"We have just rested!" Legolas cried. "Here we sail, straight from the mouth of Lothlorien, and you saw the Company needs rest?"  
  
"And what of it!" Boromir cut in, obviously spoiling for a fight, his voice deep and booming in the silent forest. Legolas thanked his lucky stars that they were out of earshot of the rest of the Company. He had no desire to humiliate himself by loosing his temper in front of all the rest of his companions. Already the normally cool, patient elf could feel his anger bubbling to the surface.  
  
"How dare you, Master Elf," Boromir continued, "when by your own admission we dallied too long in the fairer lands of your folk."  
  
"That's different, son of man," Legolas replied coldly. "Lothlorien guards her boarders zealously. Not man nor orc nor anything living can pass through without the Lady knowing. Lorien offered us the protection we need. I just regret that we had to leave it sooner rather than later."  
  
"Lothlorien," Boromir spat. "What of your beautiful Lothlorien! You waltz in like this and you have the gall to say I jeopardise the mission, when by your very tongue you admit to stalling in Lorien? And for a month! A month! All I ask is for a few days to be among my own kind-"  
  
"Aragorn is your own kind!" he roared, and for a moment, the forest itself seemed to tremble at the wrath of the elf.  
  
And suddenly thrust into the centre of the argument, Aragorn fidgeted. It seemed that hit close to an ugly truth, one that made Aragorn profoundly uneasy. He saw Boromir look at Aragorn long and hard, and was surprised to see that Aragorn could not meet the other man's gaze.  
  
"He is not, Master Elf," Boromir said quietly, with none of the usual sarcasm at the words 'Master Elf'. Aragorn noted with some concern the trace of weariness in the man's voice. "He is not."  
  
"Aragorn is born of your race"  
  
"Perhaps, but he shares more in common with you and your people, Master Elf, than he ever will with mine. Lorien, Rivendell, elfdom, they are where his heart lie. He has even given his love to one of your own women, Elf. His heart is with your people." Boromir said tiredly. "My heart is in Gondor, with my people. I am not merely a son of man, Legolas. I am human. I have human needs."  
  
"More like human lust," he spat. "And as for everything else, we all eat and drink and breathe and hurt. Are you so blind as to not see that everyone here has the selfsame needs that you do!"  
  
"You're a fine one to speak, Elf," Boromir roared. "Where were you in Lorien, when all of us were left to ourselves among the blasted tree roots? Where did you disappear to? You betray us the moment we step into Caras Galadhon and keep the company of your own people the moment we so much as set foot into the demesne and you have the gall to confront me like this? The moment you are with your own kind, Elf, you forget the existence of us littler people," he sneered. "Now who's the truly selfish one here?"  
  
"Boromir," Aragorn cautioned. "That's enough."  
  
"Oh? Is it?" he said, turning on Aragorn. "I didn't know it was enough. Did you? Curse you all, your blood and your mission both! I hate you all, I hate everything to do with your stinking elves and I cant for the life of me wait to be rid of you!"  
  
"Boromir!" Aragorn cried, honestly distressed. "The elves are our hope! They have been helping us every step of the way!"  
  
"And only because they created this stinking mess in the first place with the forging of the rings!" Boromir said.  
  
"We created the mess?" Legolas cried, affronted. "If only the men of your race weren't so weak as to fall! Nine great kings my foot! Look at them now. What has their greed for power gained them?"  
  
"Oh, so now we're the ones to blame?"  
  
"If Isildur-"  
  
"If you say one more word about Isildur's Bane, I'll have your head for a wall hanging, I swear it!"  
  
"I'd like to just see you try-"  
  
Aragorn shoved the two aside. "Enough!" he cried. "That's enough. Both of you. A fine sight, you'll make, Boromir, Legolas. Remember yourselves, and remember just whom you represent. Too long have both my peoples been at odds, we must remember the alliances of old, not fan the flames of distrust! I would have expected better of you. Both of you."  
  
Aragorn took a deep breath. "Legolas is right," he said at last. "We have need of haste. We have already tarried too long. And yet. I feel a solace here which is different from what comfort of the elves have to offer. And by the looks of it, it seems to be doing everyone a lot of good. Every one of us." he said. "Especially Boromir."  
  
"It has been hard on Boromir, Legolas," Aragorn said, slipping into elvish. "He too has a valid point. I am not like him. While travelling, and in language, we have each other, and the hobbits have known each other all their lives. He is alone, Legolas. See that, and soften your judgement."  
  
"And what of Gimli?" Legolas replied in the same.  
  
"And what of Gimli?" Aragorn repeated, this time in the common tongue. "Gimli has you. Do not think I do not see it. I have the use of my eyes yet, Legolas."  
  
Legolas saw Boromir staring at him queerly, and he knew he must be colouring despite his best efforts. He could see the puzzlement on Boromir's face as he tried to work out exactly what Aragorn was getting at. The elf scowled. "Just because you are unable to control your more base nature, my lord Boromir of Gondor, doesn't mean that you have the right to transfer that same lack of control to your other companions," he said distastefully.  
  
Boromir quickly turned away, and for a brief second, Legolas felt guilty. "My apologies, for the insult. I shouldn't have transferred my insecurities to you." Before him, Boromir nodded stiffly.  
  
Aragorn stepped forward and sighed. "I suggest we talk about it at the campfire. At the very least, it'll give us all time to think a bit. As for tonight, I'm afraid there's nothing we can do but camp over again. I know she's expecting us to stay. We cant just leave her like that. She's alone and helpless, and if its true that there are orcs prowling about, she's even more vulnerable to attacks than we are. If the mission weren't so perilous, I'd have half a mind to ask her along with us. At the very least, she can return to Gondor with Boromir as an escort when on his way home." 


	5. Chapter 6: The seduction of Aragorn

Title: What DIDN'T Happen In Lord of The Rings. (chapter3) Type: Whorefic, (slashfic/threesome in later chapters) Rating: PG13 Storyline : The Company runs into an ex-prostitute and uses her to satisfy their desires. Chapter summary: Chapter 6. The seduction of Aragorn. Note: Arwen is the Arwen of book verse.  
  
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Chapter 6- Aragorn.  
  
For most of the evening, Aragorn steered clear of both Legolas and Boromir. Every time he went past them, or threw a glance in their direction, they would turn to look at him, anxiously awaiting his decision. Curse it all. He wasn't competent enough to make decisions for them. He could hardly trust himself to make decisions concerning none other but himself. Seeing them both turn to him so readily for guidance was slightly unnerving, bearing in mind that Legolas, prince of Mirkwood was an elf who had lived far longer than he and that as captain of Gondor, Boromir had had far more practical experience leading his people.  
  
"Why do you avoid us, Aragorn?" he heard somebody whisper. Turning around, he saw Boromir standing troubled before him. "Do you fear to make the wrong decision?" he asked gently. When he nodded, Boromir shrugged. "The way I see it, if both Elrond and Gandalf-may the gods rest his soul-see you fit to lead the Company, then who am I to disagree. I said it at then, and I shall say it again. If such is the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."  
  
"You love your country," Aragorn stated.  
  
"Aye, that I do. With all my heart."  
  
"I love this land," Aragorn said simply. "Your loyalty and allegiance is to the land that Gondor may claim as its own. But as for me, my allegiance is to all of Middle Earth. Understand that, Boromir, so that you might not be so quick to judge my loyalties."  
  
"Never would I dream of questioning your loyalties."  
  
"Indeed." Aragorn replied wearily, hearing Boromir sink back into the painful formality from before the hunting. Once he returned to lay claim to the throne, he would have to hold court, where the slightest misplaced word might affect the well being of the entire country, but if anything, he was thankful that a mere ranger need not watch his words the way a future king should.  
  
"I will not question you," Boromir whispered, his voice strained as he hesitated, summoning up the courage to continue. "I will not question you.my brother." he whispered. "Not anymore."  
  
Aragorn looked up into those large, honest eyes and nodded. Though arrogant and rash, Boromir was an honourable man, incapable of outright deceit. No doubt that simple pledge meant more to him than a declaration of loyalty, something Aragorn felt he would never hear from the lips of this proud man.  
  
Aragorn held his eyes for a moment, then released him from his gaze. Fumbling around his belt, he drew out a small bag of weed to refill his pipe. When he was done, he quietly passed it to Boromir, who lit up his own pipe. Together, the two men smoked in companionable silence, watching the sun as it sunk gently below the horizon.  
  
All about the camp, the company bustled around, helping themselves to multiple helpings of roast deer, and though the memory of Arwen was always fresh in his mind, Aragorn found that the silhouette of Boromir's wench-for that was what he now thought of her as-arrested his vision.  
  
"You know, she doesn't belong to me, Aragorn," Boromir smiled, as if reading his thoughts.  
  
"It certainly seems like someone is a bit more perceptive than he usually is," Aragorn said, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Come, Aragorn. It isn't that hard to guess what you're thinking. We are men after all," Boromir said, taking a deep drag from his pipe. Aragorn shrugged. Without realising it, his hand reached up to finger the pendant that his beloved had given him.  
  
"Is it wrong, Boromir?" he sighed at last, "for a man to want a woman when his own seems too far out of his reach?"  
  
Boromir shrugged. "I'm not one for philosophy myself," he said, "But then again, you are practically betrothed to a woman you have courted for years, and I have yet to taste that experience." He sighed. "I don't know, Aragorn. I have never been much good at such things. All I know is that her presence brings me comfort of some sort, even if it is just the shallow comfort of being in the company of one who hails from the same lands as I do."  
  
As if the very speaking of her were a summoning, the wench left her place near the fire and moved slowly towards them. "That's a fine catch you got us," she grinned, holding out a plate of the freshly roasted meat.  
  
Beside him, Boromir grinned. "I'm glad you like it, wench."  
  
"Oh, I do. I do. I like it a lot. Its much more than I expected," she replied with a playful wink. "Come now," she said, turning to Aragorn. "Doesn't your friend want any?" she said cheekily, offering him the plate.  
  
"Oh he does," Boromir grinned back at her. "He was just thinking of it."  
  
The wench threw back her head and laughed, and Aragorn had to admit there was something wild and untamed about her that he found irresistibly exiting. She was a woman of the earth, a savage almost from living her days alone in the wilderness, her beauty so unlike that of his delicate Arwen.  
  
"Is the man shy then?" she said smilingly as she settled down comfortably in Boromir's lap. She lay a hand on Boromir's chest and looked up to be kissed, and Boromir willingly obliged.  
  
"Nay, he's not shy. He has a woman waiting for him, that's all," Boromir replied by way of explanation. The wench nodded her head in understanding and for awhile, Aragorn was left to himself while the couple busied themselves in each other's arms.  
  
Aragorn shuddered though. They had talked about him so freely it was as if he wasn't there at all, discussing his love life as if he were a piece of chopped liver to be passed around. How barbaric, he thought, but even as he thought it, he knew that deep in his heart, a secret part of him was thrilled by the savagery.  
  
He looked up to see the wench eyeballing him, but she quickly turned away when she saw that he had noticed her. His curiosity thoroughly aroused, Aragorn bent his head, pretending to be busy filling his pipe, all the while watching her from the corner of his eye. True enough, the moment she thought he was not looking, she turned her gaze back to him. After a time, he saw her leaning forward, her head bent inches away from Boromir as they murmured softly to each other. At length, Boromir smiled and stood up, and reaching for the now empty plate, made his way back to the campfire and proceeded to carve out more of the roast deer.  
  
Left alone, Aragorn turned to look at the wench and was startled by just how violently his body reacted to her presence. She was nothing more than a dark silhouette, her face barely visible from the dancing flames of the campfire and her tangled flyaway hair gleamed reddish as it reflected the amber light of the flames.  
  
She grinned at him, and he thought he could catch the gleam of whitish teeth in the darkness. Aragorn felt his breath catch as she moved nearer to him. He could almost feel the smell of her sex as she sat beside him, a warm, aromatic bundle wrapped in little more than an elven cloak. When she leaned into him, he did not move away.  
  
"Ah, not so shy after all then," she whispered. "Don't worry, Aragorn. Boromir wouldn't mind."  
  
"And how can you be so sure?"  
  
"I don't belong to him," she said simply.  
  
Aragorn sat back, slightly stunned. Wasn't that the selfsame words Boromir had used to describe her? Was it a common occurrence in the world of man then, to pass their women around?  
  
"I'm not his woman, Aragorn," she said again, rightly guessing his thoughts. "Men aren't exactly in the habit of sharing their women, but look at it this way. I'm not his in the first place. I'm not his to share even if he wanted to."  
  
"How can you not care?"  
  
"If you have lived the life I had, you would not care either."  
  
"How can he not care then?"  
  
"He knows that I don't. oh Aragorn, don't tell me you still don't understand!" she sighed wearily. "Look at me. Just think back. Do you remember what Boromir calls me? Wench. Yes, wench. And do you know why? Because I am. And don't lie and tell me that all this is new to you, I know you were eavesdropping last night."  
  
"One last question," he whispered. "Why?"  
  
The wench stopped for awhile, frowning a little as she considered the question. "I suppose its because I'm lonely," she said at last. "I'm not bound by society anymore, I lost all my allusions long ago, I've been living on my own since, I'm lonely and I'm hungry for seed." She said all that so matter-of-factly that Aragorn was shocked. The wench saw his semi- horrified look and chuckled.  
  
"Is that so hard to imagine, Aragorn? I have not seen a single soul all the time I've lived here. And I live alone. This could well be the only chance I'll ever get to have another child."  
  
"Does Boromir know about it?"  
  
"Perhaps," she said. "Perhaps not. But he guesses it most like. He isn't that dumb, you know."  
  
"Don't you care about him at all then?" Aragorn pressed.  
  
"We've only just met yesterday," she shrugged. "I suppose I do, in my own way. I'll probably miss him when you all go away."  
  
"So. last night, it was just a base pursuit of pleasure then?" Aragorn frowned. This didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all.  
  
"I suppose so, yes. For him, the pursuit of pleasure.and for me too. And that I hope to beget a child."  
  
"I didn't know you wanted to beget a child," Boromir said, overhearing. He sat down calmly beside her and kissed her hungrily. When he finally broke the kiss, he chuckled and continued cheekily, "else I would have tried harder." The wench laughed and snuggled into him, and Boromir cradled her adoringly. "Why do you want a baby?" he asked in a sing-song manner.  
  
"Because I'm lonely," she said, pouting.  
  
"Then come with me," he chanted.  
  
"I don't want to!" she said, continuing the playacting game. "You stay here with me."  
  
"Can't! I'm needed at home."  
  
"I don't want to go to Gondor," she said sulkily.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because my husband's murderer lives there."  
  
"I thought you said he was your betrothed."  
  
"He was."  
  
"Ah."  
  
And to Aragorn's surprised, both of them burst into helpless giggles, laughing and swatting each other like children at play. Still chuckling soundly, Boromir caught her and wrestled her down, and together they kissed passionately.  
  
Aragorn turned his face away, embarrassed by such an outward display of intimacy. "Does Aragorn want a go?" her playful voice floated through the air. Aragorn looked up, shocked. They were exactly in the same position as before, the wench soundly pinned under Boromir's greater bulk, their faces so close it was almost touching. If not for the name, Aragorn would never have thought she was addressing him, for her eyes were fixed on Boromir.  
  
"Well, what if I don't want Aragorn to have a go?" Boromir said, grinning.  
  
"Well, that doesn't change anything, does it?" she replied cheekily. "I don't care if Boromir doesn't want Aragorn to have a go. Boromir cant do anything about it," she laughed and rolled her head in Aragorn's direction, even as Boromir settled down on top of her and lay his head on her bosom.  
  
"So how about it, Aragorn," he said. "Have you made up your mind yet or are you still unsure? Either way, you had better decide quickly before I lay my claim tonight."  
  
All against his will, Aragorn felt his mouth moving, replying to the question.  
  
"Sure. I suppose one night wont hurt."  
  
Wordlessly, Aragorn let her take him by the hand and lead him into the dimness of her hut. He could very vaguely make out Boromir's silhouette against the red glow of the campfire and imagined the other man seething quietly away, trying his best to hide his indignation from the rest of the Company. That Boromir might truly be unaffected was a thought Aragron never even allowed himself to consider.  
  
Let inside the hut for the first time, Aragron felt a surge of excitement. He was about to see her private living quarters, and the ranger part of him wondered what he would find. The insides of her home however, was a bit of a letdown. It was the shabbiest, most impersonalized living space he had ever laid eyes on. The entire hut was little more than one large room, with nothing more than a wobbly table, inexpertly crafted from bits of sticks, and a handful of rags, held together by a threadbare cloth to form a makeshift mattress. Scattered messily around were three or four pieces of rabbit skins, probably the only meat she had ever had since the house was built.  
  
The wench sat down, crossed legged on the bare wooden floor, and feeling it was expected of him, Aragorn settled down beside him. He felt profoundly uneasy. As if sensing his discomfort, the wench shrugged genially. "Boromir mentioned you have a woman," she whispered, her voice piercing the awkward silence that hung heavy upon them. Aragon nodded. "Tell me about her," she smiled.  
  
Aragorn jerked his head up, shocked at her brazenness. Tell her about Arwen? Now? Wouldn't it unpleasant for her to hear him declare his love for someone else just before their lovemaking?  
  
Seeing the confusion on his face, the wench laughed. "You're such a romantic, Aragorn!" she said, laughing gaily. "Alright then, do as you please. You can tell me about her, or you may not tell me about her, I couldn't care less either way. I was just giving you an avenue to talk," she smiled. "And you do look to me like someone badly in need of a nice long talk."  
  
Aragorn shook his head and sighed, and looking up at her, returned her warm smile. "And perhaps I am," he replied. "Alright then. Fire away."  
  
"I've seen you finger the jewel. Did she give it to you?"  
  
"Yes," he said simply.  
  
"It's pretty."  
  
"Yes, it is, isn't it. My thanks."  
  
"Have you known her long?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
The wench looked up and sighed in exasperation. "Why do you keep answering me in short sentences," she demanded. "It's horribly rude of you. I was just trying to be nice. I'm not snooping, or anything. Ye gods, its becoming more of an interrogation session than a normal conversation!"  
  
"My apologies," he said. "I'm not good at conversations."  
  
"You blasted well aren't," she retorted, grinning playfully. Without another word, she stood up and moved over to kneel in front of him, and Aragorn felt his heart skip a beat, and when she rested a hand on his cheek, Aragorn allowed her to guide his face upwards to meet hers in a kiss. 


End file.
